


Marking What's Yours

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel
Genre: Biting, M/M, Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 07:31:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1810330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the X-Men kink meme. Charles/Erik, on the subject of bite marks; post-DoFP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marking What's Yours

"What is with the turtlenecks?" Erik turns his head, regarding McCoy with a raised eyebrow in response to the rumbled question. McCoy is drinking coffee, and staring at Erik intently. 

For God’s sake, he just wants to read his bloody paper in peace.

"Excuse me?"

"The turtlenecks. Every day, a turtleneck. Did you know it’s July out there? Don’t you get hot?" Erik regrets the day he ever agreed to come and teach at Charles Xavier’s ridiculous school. The most infuriating part of it is the blue idiot looks honestly curious.

He really just  _wants to know._  

"My collarbones are very prone to sunburn." Erik gives his answer with a straight face, sipping at his glass of water and keeping eye contact with McCoy. 

The other mutant furrows his brow, plainly dissatisfied with Erik’s response. He can’t imagine why. ” _Really_?”

”Hank, do you not have a class to teach?” Charles’ voice comes from the doorway, not especially loud, but amused. McCoy looks to the clock and lets out a huff, but he stands and walks away all the same. 

"I’m on a free period." Erik says as Charles moves forwards, three books stacked in his lap. 

"Yes, I know." Charles says, settling his chair next to Erik’s and leaning forwards to peer at his newspaper. "My collarbones are very prone to sunburn." He says, in a mockery of Erik’s voice, overtly serious, too low.

Erik fixes Charles with a stare.

"Let me see." Charles says, and his hand touches Erik’s, stroking over the back of his hand.

"You know what they look like."

"Remind me." Erik rolls his eyes and, ignoring Charles’ delighted grin, hooks his index finger in the edge of the collar and pulls down, baring the flesh under the blue fabric.

Charles grins, and why shouldn’t he? Bastard was always fond of admiring his handiwork. There are three marks; two bites and a bruise he’d suckled painstakingly into place. 

Erik lets the fabric go, shaking his head in an amused fashion.

"Dogs do this, you know. And cats. And other animals."

"What, mark what’s theirs?"

"So possessive." Erik chides, tutting. 

"He is not yours to  _play_  with _._ " Charles mimics his voice again, pushing a memory; Erik getting sharp with some overly touchy woman in a bar.

"She was fawning over you because of your wheelchair."

"I didn’t mind." Charles says, teasing.

"Well, I  _did_. I never pegged you for it until recently, Charles.”

"You love it." Charles leans over, drags his lips over Erik’s jaw, drawing a short hum from the other man.

"You do, certainly. I, on the other hand, am wearing a turtleneck in July." He could wear something with a lower collar, but the explanations or the laughter would not be enjoyable. Besides, what if one of the children asked him  _questions_? Puberty questions?

"You don’t have to. Might I convince you to remove it?" 

"You might. But not before four o’clock. Shouldn’t you be devoting some time to your students, Professor Xavier?" Charles frowns at him; Erik has never seen the man actually pout, but this is effectively the same. "If you’ll excuse me, I have some preparation to do before my next class.

Charles looks after him as he goes, and sends an impulse; it’s an errant thought, one of Erik on his back, marked all over, moaning with his hands tied above his head.

He looks back at the other man sternly. “Get out of me.”

"You didn’t say that last night." Erik’s lip twitches, but damn the man, he will not laugh at such a terrible joke. Charles grins, tapping his own right temple. "I’ll see you later, then?"

"Later." Erik agrees, and he makes his way to his classroom. On days like this, he is rather glad he’d ever come to teach at this ridiculous school. 


End file.
